chapter FIVE
Reese
I shake off Gray and Tyler's escort as soon as we reach the psychology building, pretending I need to use the restroom. Tyler buys it. Gray looks suspicious, but allows me to escape with only a stern "Don't be late" that makes my Omega instincts both bristle and preen.
Alone in the bathroom stall, I pull out my emergency kit – a small silver case containing backup suppressants. My hand trembles slightly as I pop one into my mouth, chasing it with water from my bottle. The bitter taste lingers on my tongue as I count to ten, breathing deeply.
Three days. Three days of constant Alpha exposure, and already I need supplemental doses. This isn't sustainable. But neither is revealing myself as an Omega to a team of eight elite Alphas at a university where mixed-designation teams face strict oversight and potential dissolution.
I splash cold water on my face, studying my reflection. My skin looks paler than usual, blue-green eyes too bright. Side effects of the suppressants. Worth it. Has to be.
The hallway outside the bathroom is beginning to fill with students heading to their next classes.
I merge into the flow, keeping my head down as the scents of various designations wash over me.
Sable Ridge has a higher-than-average Alpha population, a fact both their admissions brochure and their athletics department love to boast about.
What they don't advertise is how the university monitors those populations, especially in competitive athletics where designation dynamics could provide unfair advantages.
I'm halfway to class when a hand grabs my upper arm, pulling me to a stop.
"There she is. Our token diversity hire."
I turn to find three women in matching Sable Ridge Rowing jackets. The women's team. The one I pointedly did not try to join.
The one who spoke is tall and lithe, with sleek blonde hair pulled into a perfect ponytail.
Behind her stand two others in a formation that’s clearly rehearsed and designed to be intimidating.
A redhead with freckles splashed across her nose and a brunette whose expression suggests permanent boredom.
"Can I help you?" I keep my voice neutral, carefully extracting my arm from her grip.
"Well, if it isn't Reese Callahan," she says with false sweetness. "Westlake's star turned Sable Ridge traitor."
I keep my expression neutral. "Kinsley Adams. Still captain, I see."
Her smile hardens. "We competed against each other three times last season. You should remember."
"I remember winning twice," I reply, unable to resist.
Her eyes narrow. "And now you're the first female cox on the men's team in Sable Ridge history. Quite the achievement."
"Thanks," I say, though it's clearly not a compliment.
"Just curious why you jumped ship to the men's team instead of coming to us. We could use your experience. Especially after that... incident at Westlake."
My blood runs cold. The truth, that women's teams have more Omegas, making detection more likely, isn't something I can share. "I go where the competition is."
Fire flickers in her eyes. "Implying we're not good enough? We placed third at nationals last year."
"And the men's team has a shot at Olympic development. That's my goal."
"So ambitious," the redhead cuts in, voice sweet as poison. "Maybe she thinks she's too good for us now, Kins. Just like at the Eastern Qualifier."
"Something like that," Kinsley says, looking me up and down. Her nostrils flare slightly. "You smell different than at Westlake. Like... nothing."
My heart skips. "Scentless Beauty soap. Hypoallergenic."
"Hmm." She leans closer. "Funny. You had quite a distinct scent at the Eastern regionals. I remember it clearly."
My pulse quickens. Had my suppressants failed before without me realizing?
"The guys on the team have been talking about you," she continues. "Especially Gray Lockwood."
This change of subject catches me off guard. "What about him?"
"He's my boyfriend." Her smile turns razor-sharp. "Or was, until recently. Just thought you should know in case you got any ideas."
Of course. Alpha territory marking. How original.
"Your relationship status isn't relevant to my ability to steer a boat," I reply, echoing my words from breakfast.
Kinsley's laugh is brittle. "So cold. No wonder you fit right in with those machines. Just remember, Gray might be letting you call the shots on the water for now, but he always comes back to me."
"Is there a point to this conversation? I have class."
The brunette finally speaks, her voice surprisingly deep. "The point is, stay in your lane. Cox the boat if you must, but remember where you stand in the hierarchy."
"Which is nowhere," the redhead adds.
"Thanks for the warm welcome." I adjust my bag on my shoulder. "Now if you'll excuse me."
I move to step around them, but Kinsley shifts to block my path.
"One more thing. There's a reason female coxes don't bond with male crews. It destroys team dynamics. Creates jealousy. Drama." Her eyes narrow. "The university doesn't take kindly to disrupted athletics programs. They've been known to investigate... irregularities."
The veiled threat hangs in the air. She knows more than she's letting on, and she's making it clear that my position here isn't as secure as I'd like to believe.
"Good thing I'm just there to steer the boat," I say finally.
"Good." Kinsley steps aside. "Keep it that way."
I walk past them, keeping my pace measured though my instincts scream to run. Their eyes burn into my back all the way to the classroom door.
Gray and Tyler are already inside, seated near the back. Gray's expression darkens when he sees me.
"You're late," he says as I slide into the seat beside him.
"By thirty seconds."
"Still late."
I roll my eyes and pull out my notebook. "Met your girlfriend in the hallway."
His body tenses. "Ex."
"Not according to her."
Gray's bergamot and driftwood scent spikes with the sharp bite of irritation. "Kinsley and I broke up months ago."
"She seems to disagree."
"Kinsley disagrees with reality on a regular basis. It's part of her charm."
Tyler leans forward. "She cornered you?"
"With her entourage."
"Olivia and Madison," Tyler supplies. "The unholy trinity of the women's team."
"They were... welcoming," I say dryly.
Gray's jaw tightens. "What did they say?"
"Standard territorial posturing. Stay in my lane. Don't disrupt team dynamics." I pause. "Don't bond with the crew."
Gray's pencil snaps between his fingers. "Ridiculous."
"Is it?" I ask, genuinely curious. "Is there a rule against it?"
Tyler adjusts his glasses. "Yes and no. Bonded teams get special housing and funding, but a female cox bonding with only part of a male crew would create... complications. That’s why they banned unbonded omegas from being on male teams. So the university monitors all athletic teams for designation compliance.
Mixed teams get extra scrutiny, especially if there are signs of bonding behavior. They've disbanded programs before."
"Antiquated bullshit," Gray mutters, surprising me. "Team dynamics are about communication and trust, not designation."
"Tell that to your ex."
His steel eyes lock with mine. "I have. Repeatedly."
The professor begins the lecture before I can respond. The topic, competitive psychology and group dynamics, feels painfully relevant. I take notes mechanically, my mind spinning with this new information.
Mixed teams under scrutiny. Programs disbanded. Extra oversight. And now Kinsley knows something's different about me, even if she can't identify exactly what.
What would they say if they knew an Omega was commanding their precious Alpha team?
Gray spends the entire lecture in tense silence, his scent shifting between irritation and something I can't quite identify. When class ends, he stands abruptly.
"I'll walk you to your next class," he says.
"Not necessary."
"Wasn't asking."
"I'm perfectly capable—"
"It's not about capability, Callahan." His voice drops. "It's about making sure Kinsley and her minions don't try anything else."
I blink, surprised by what sounds suspiciously like concern. "I can handle a few territorial Alphas."
"I know you can." A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "That doesn't mean you should have to."
We exit the building in silence, Tyler peeling away with a quiet "See you at practice." The campus buzzes with between-class energy, students lounging on the grass of the quad enjoying the warm spring day.
"Kinsley was out of line," Gray finally says as we walk. "I'll talk to her."
"Please don't. It'll only confirm whatever narrative she's created."
He glances at me. "Which is?"
"That I'm a threat. To her territory. To team dynamics. To the natural order of things."
"You are a threat," he says, so matter-of-factly that I nearly stumble. "Just not in the way she thinks."
"Care to elaborate?"
He stops walking, forcing me to stop too. "You're a threat because you're good, Callahan. Better than our last cox. Better than any cox I've worked with. And everyone can see it."
The compliment throws me slightly off balance. "Oh."
"Yeah. Oh ." He starts walking again. "So expect more hostility. Not just from Kinsley's crew, but from anyone invested in that status quo."
"Sounds like you've given this some thought."
"I think about everything that affects my team." His stride lengthens, forcing me to pick up my pace. "Where's your next class?"
"Thompson Hall. But I have an hour break."
"Library then," he decides for both of us. "I need to review race footage."
"Are you always this dictatorial?" I ask, jogging slightly to keep up with his long strides.
"Yes."
"And people just... let you?"
This earns me a sideways glance. "Most people don't question me."
"I'm not most people."
"I'm becoming acutely aware of that, Callahan."
The library looms ahead, a grand stone building with columns and arched windows. Gray holds the door open, his height and breadth making the gesture seem strangely formal.